


they can read all about it

by chivasintead1



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Merest hint of PTSD-esque flashbacks, Reunion Fic, some homophobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1774465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chivasintead1/pseuds/chivasintead1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walt comes home, and Ray is as happy as a pig in shit about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they can read all about it

**Author's Note:**

> Dipping my pinkie toe into the GK fandom as I've been a creeper for years, and this was gathering dust in my documents folder. *hides* I own nothing. Characterisation based off the fictional portrayals of real people in the HBO series 'Generation Kill'. No offence intended.
> 
> C x

Walt arrives home earlier than expected. Not least because it was a tour full of even more fuck-ups than his previous two combined; several serious enough that his time away was extended by far too long. But he just praises any and all higher powers for getting him back in one piece, hefts his bag further up his shoulder, and slides through the throngs of people milling around the arrivals gate to find a cab.

An older couple insist on letting him jump ahead of them, most likely due to his fatigues (a fresh pair, thankfully) and the circles of exhaustion under his eyes. He thanks them, polite like his Grandmama taught him, and accepts the man's firm handshake with a smile, before sliding into the cab's cool interior.

He rattles off the campus address and the driver laughs. "Surprising your sweetheart, are we?"

Walt ducks his head, biting back an undignified snort at the mere idea of _anyone_ referring to Ray Person as a 'sweetheart' (well, aside from Walt's Mom, but he refuses to linger on that thought for too long). He laughs a little when he replies: "Sure am."

The driver doesn't say anything else, which Walt is thankful for, and he tilts his head back to lean against the window. His eyes drift over the rows of neat houses, white picket fences and patches of bright green grass without really seeing them, getting lost in the scenes of suburbia that always seem so alien to him after being away for so long.

They move further into the city, the buildings growing taller and more tightly packed together. He has to close his eyes against the urge to count the alleys, doorways and window ledges; perfect places for the enemy to spring from, AKs held aloft, the quiet pierced by screaming bullets at war with screaming men.

His finger only twitches against a phantom trigger once.

 

 

He jerks upright a little while later as the cab slows outside the main college gate and the driver reaches back to knock gently on the glass. "You need me to take you further in, son?"

Walt blinks, eyes darting around for a few seconds as he gets his bearings. The cab driver frowns, worried; and right, of course. He's home; he doesn't need a weapon, Kevlar and someone on his six, ready to fire. He'll have Ray.

He shakes himself back to the present and reaches for his wallet, suddenly keen to walk and burn off the anxiousness building in his stomach. "No, I'm okay, thank you." He passes a handful of bills through the gap in the glass - more than enough to cover the fare -and pushes the door open.

"You take care of yourself."

"I will, sir. You too." Walt thumps once on the roof of the car as he lets the door slam, and then lifts a hand in farewell. He takes a moment to breathe, deep and a little shakily - once, twice, three times - before squaring his shoulders and striding through the gate.

 

 

The sun is filtering through the trees dotted around campus, and it takes him a while to find the right buildings. He's attracting quite a lot of attention with his uniform, rough stubble and bulging duffel bag, and a group of girls clustered around a wooden table give him obvious once overs, giggling amongst themselves.

He ducks his head, cheeks flushing in embarrassment, and makes to veer towards them to ask for directions. But then he catches sight of messy dark hair, cropped too short at the sides, and stops dead, duffel slipping from suddenly slack fingers.

Ray's smoking, sitting astride a small wall roughly ten meters from a snack stand, with a group of presumably classmates lounging around him in a rough semi-circle, from his two-o-clock to his nine. Walt has to swallow hard at the sight of him - physically therein front of him and not just draped over Walt's back in a torn and wrinkled photograph - after nearly 11 months, thousands of miles away in the desert.

He's lost weight, his shoulders sharp against a too big white t-shirt, and he's not conversing as freely as Walt knows he's more than capable of. His jeans are torn at the knee, and roughly shoved into unlaced combat boots that Walt recognizes as his own. The toll of such a prolonged absence is obvious, and Walt's lungs feel too small.

He bends to pick up his bag, tug his uniform straight and run a hand through his longer-than-regulation hair. He's  _nervous;_ the kind that he hasn't been since he showed up on Ray's door a mere week after OIF, with nothing but a change of clothes, a bottle of Jim Beam and a hopeful smile. Shaking his head at himself, he starts forward.

He makes it twelve steps before Ray turns slightly to flick his cigarette, glancing up and around himself in a habit that Walt doubts either of them will ever be rid of, and Walt knows the second he spots him. His eyes widen and his entire body jerks ramrod straight.

Walt just about manages not to slip into parade rest automatically. Instead, he lets out the breath he hadn't realized he'd held, and quirks his lips up in to the grin that always makes Ray roll his eyes and bite into his own cheek. They've spoken a surprising amount - brief phone calls that crackled with static, long rambling letters delivered sporadically in whichever bumfuck town Walt happened to be in during mail call, and more explicit emails during the heavenly two weeks they were holed up in a base with decent electricity and WiFi - but 11 months is a long time. And Walt's content to let Ray lead on this one.

He doesn't know much about Ray's new life at college, apart from how his Introduction to Eco-Engineering professor is a " _giant dick-sucking douchebag_ " and the cafeteria meatloaf is " _worse than anything I had in a desert and I didn't know that was actually humanly possible,_ _homes_ ".He doesn't know whether Ray's buddies are expecting an ex-comrade or a boyfriend; that is, if they're expecting him at all.

But Walt doesn't get too much time to dwell on any of that, because Ray's sprung into action, vaulting over the wall and running towards him. "You motherfucking asshole!"

"So good to see you too, shithead." Walt replies, with barely a second to drop his bag and brace before Ray's throwing himself at him, crashing into Walt's chest hard enough that he has to lean back, lest they both end up in a heap on the ground.

With his arms vice-like around Walt's neck, Ray lets him take a second to right them both before he crushes their mouths together. The kiss is desperate, Walt's hand fisting in the soft cotton of Ray's shirt as he pulls him even closer. It's hot and wet and so, _so_  much fucking betterthan the snippets of memories Walt clung to during his combat jacks.

Ray tilts his head just enough to suck in a deep breath, and Walt remembers that they're in a very public place, so he slows the kiss until they're just pressing their lips together. He opens his eyes before pulling away, cataloging the blue-tinged skin under Ray's dark eyelashes and Ray's blown pupils when he blinks his eyes open. He's breathing hard - Ray's still in good shape, but hasn't kept up the Recon standard since becoming a civilian - and they spend a few long seconds just staring at each other, smiling like absolute morons.

A loud wolf-whistle pierces the moment, and Ray swivels his head towards the group he'd abandoned at the sight of Walt. He grins obnoxiously twisting his body so that Walt's plastered to his back. "You're just jealous you don't have a hot Marine to climb, Patty."

"Soon to be ex-marine," Walt chimes in, ducking to speak in to Ray's ear. Ray shivers, and Walt digs his finger tips in harder for a brief second before letting his arms go slack so Ray can step forward. He's slightly unsteady on his feet, and Walt's grin turns smug as he bends to pick up his forgotten bag.

"Pfft, technicalities", Ray mutters, reaching back and tangling their hands together, "Now, if you'll all excuse us, I'm off to give Walt here a damn fine welcome home!" With a flourish, he turns on his heel and strides off.

Walt's cheeks heat up as he stumbles along behind him. His "nice to meet y'all" is hurriedly thrown over his shoulder, and met with amused snickers and dismissive waves. He keeps pace with Ray, squeezing his fingers as they stride through an embarrassingly large crowd of gaping observers. "I guess showing up announced isn't too bad, then?"

Ray snorts. "Fuck no." And then he turns, fixing Walt with faux-angry puppy eyes that have, embarrassingly enough, gotten Walt to cave to many a ridiculous Ray Person demand. "Although I was gonna have a pie baked for you for when you got home next weekend."

Now it's Walt's turn to snort, at the image of Ray in an apron - naturally one with floral trim and pink ruffles - baking a pie with a lattice crust, decorative cherries and getting flour absolutely everywhere _._

"Okay, fine, so you probably wouldn't have gotten any of that Susie Homemaker welcome-home bullshit that I know you jerk off over. But I'd've at least had time to stockpile that watermelon lube you love so much."

"Jesus, Ray." Walt trembles a little, his dick catching on to the fact that Ray is  _right here_  and touching Walt and so fucking hot, Jesus it's been too long. He grips Ray's hand tighter and lengthens his strides as they come up on Ray's truck, sloppily parked and taking up two spaces. Ray laughs, ducking in close enough to press a kiss against Walt's cheek before letting go and fucking scurryingaround the bed to the driver's door.

Walt would give him shit if he wasn't as equally keen to get home right the fuck now. Instead he clambers in, shoving his bag down by his feet, barely giving Ray a second to settle in and shut his door before he's reaching out, curling a hand around Ray's neck and pulling him in.

"Eager, aren't we Hasser?" The words are muffled against Walt's lips, and he just groans in response. Ray tilts his head and deepens the kiss, sucking on Walt's tongue as Walt's fingertips scrabble against the rough skin on his jaw. It's more intense than their previous kiss, here in the tight, enclosed space of Ray's truck, and it's Walt panting for air when they part this time.

He slides his hand round to touch Ray's mouth, lips swollen red and spit shiny. His fingers are trembling a little, and he sucks in a breath as Ray bites the pad of Walt's middle finger.

"Missed ya." Ray's voice is soft and he keeps his eyes closed, lips brushing against Walt's skin.

Walt drops his hand and leans forward enough to press their foreheads together. "I missed you too. Take me home?"

"Fuck yeah."

 

 

Ray slips his hand into Walt's again as they walk up the stairs to his apartment, staying quiet but keeping their steps fast. They barely clear the door before Walt is pushed back against it, the thud reverberating enough to make the windows shake. He can't find it in him to care though, as he drops his bag and fits both hands to Ray's hips, pulling him flush against his front.

This kiss is immediately rough and dirty, and Walt lets Ray lead for a few long, glorious minutes before he twists, grip on Ray's hips tightening enough to make Ray gasp into his mouth. He slams him back into the wood - the neighbors are going to  _hate_ them - without braking the kiss, sucking on Ray's tongue and pressing their lips together hard enough to hurt.

"Shit, yeah, come on Walt." Ray slides his leg up, hooking it over Walt's hip. He shimmies a little, and Walt's laugh tapers off into a groan as their cocks line up, the friction a hundred times better than the too-dry wanks he's made do with recently.

"I gotta--" Walt breaks the kiss, panting into Ray's ear as he slides a hand down and hoists Ray's other leg up around his waist. He stumbles back, hissing out a " _fuck_ " as Ray ducks his head and starts biting and licking along the skin of his neck. The apartment is small, so it's barely a 180 degree turn and seven steps before Walt feels his knees hit the arm of the sofa.  _  
_

He pitches forward, and Ray lands with a quiet "oof", but doesn't let Walt pull back to apologize. Instead, he hauls at his shoulders, and Walt has to press a hand into the cushions to stop himself from dropping fully onto Ray's chest. Ray digs his heels against the small of Walt's back, licking up along his lips, teeth and tongue.

Eventually, Walt slows their kissing and pulls back to glance down at Ray. His face is flushed, eyes blinking open to show pupils blown wide, and he raises an eyebrow when Walt lets his grin slip into a smirk.

"What?"

Walt doesn't answer, just shakes his head and leans down to press his lips against Ray's briefly, before sliding his free hand up Ray's shirt to expose the skin of his belly and chest and lowering himself down.

"Fuck." Ray sucks in a sharp breath, and Walt flicks his his eyes up enough to see him tilt his head back, hands clenching into fists and pressing against his temples. If it hadn't been months upon months, Walt would tease a little, suck marks into the skin of his hips and open the zip of Ray's jeans with his teeth. But as it stands, he all but rips the denim open, pushing up on his knees just enough to slide the fingertips of both hands under them and his boxers and _yank_. "Christ almighty, Walt."

"I really need to be sucking you off right now." Walt's voice has dropped in pitch, and Ray's cock twitches. He's fully hard, pre-come beading at the tip already and Walt's mouth fucking  _waters._ He barely wastes any time, just opens his mouth wide and swallows Ray down as far as he can in one move.

Ray yells, and his hands scramble over Walt's head; not pushing, just scratching his fingernails along his scalp in a way that sends shivers down Walt's spine. He moans around Ray's cock, swirling his tongue over the shaft as he starts to bob his head. He hadn't anticipated just how much he'd missed this, the weight of Ray on his tongue, the taste and smell and sounds Ray makes as he starts to shake apart. He's leaking a lot now, and Walt pulls back to suck hard on the head, greedy for the taste of it.

"Fuck, Walt, you gotta-- I'ma jizz all over your face in a second if you keep that up and I  _really_ need you to fuck me. Like, right the fuck now."

Walt is so hard it hurts, and he groans around Ray's dick before letting it slip out of his mouth with an obscene  _pop._

He scrambles upwards, simultaneously pushing the t-shirt up from where it's twisted around Ray's waist to pool at his armpits and ducking low to press kisses against Ray's skin. He's tonguing a nipple when he spies the small hole at the bottom of the fabric, edges tinged brown from where Walt's brother had dropped a cigarette mid-hug at the Thanksgiving before last.

"Is this my shirt?"

Ray smirks at the rasp in his voice, looking smug and not at all embarrassed by the way his chest is heaving, jeans stuck halfway down his legs, dick red, wet and shiny and curved against his belly. "You know, for a Recon Marine, your observance is shit."

Walt laughs, sits up on his knees a little and tugs at the offending shirt. "What can I say, I'm distracted." Ray throws his arms up and together they struggle it over his head, before Walt tosses the fabric behind him and curves his hands gently around Ray's neck, bringing their mouths together again.

Ray trembles, muscles straining as he holds himself up, and Walt shuffles slowly backwards without breaking contact so that Ray can sit up. He groans into Ray's mouth as he feels hands snake up and claw at the button of his reg. shirt, pulling him forward so that his crotch presses against Ray's stomach.

Ray all but rips the buttons off, and Walt wrenches his arms out of the material, showing it gracelessly onto the floor. Then they're kissing again, and Ray's voice is soft, mumbled into the heat of Walt's mouth as his hands find skin, pressing against protruding ribs and the ghosts of faded Kevlar bruises. "Jesus, they not feed you this time or something?"

"Felt like it. One meal a day sucks  _ass."_

"I remember."

There's a moment then, when Walt loses Ray to memories of their time in Iraq. He keeps pressing kisses against Ray's lips, fingers scratching lightly through the fine hair at his neck, and eventually Ray shakes himself out of it.

"I'm gonna order so much pizza later, and make you eat fucking all of it."

"Please," Walt laughs lowly. "Later though. After I fuck you."

"Shityeah, homes."

It's a mad scramble of limbs then, and Walt loses himself in the heat of Ray's mouth. A trail of pants, boots and boxers leads from the couch to their bed - sheets hanging off the edge, Ray's clear act of defiance against years of strict military corners - and Walt feels like he's on fire, hands moving restlessly over every piece of Ray's skin he can find.

Ray practically throws himself backwards down onto the mattress, hooking a foot behind Walt's thigh and tugging impatiently when he doesn't immediately follow.

 

 

It's frantic and hot and Walt uses too much lube, his fingers slipping every time Ray digs his in too tight against the skin of Walt's waist. Ray's babbling, breaths harsh and loud against Walt's ear as he begs him to "hurry the fuck up". He pulls his fingers out too quickly, earning a sharp hiss from Ray, and his hand is shaking as he slides the condom on over his cock.

"Walt." Ray's voice is rough, and Walt lifts his eyes up to meet Ray's gaze as he pushes in. "Fucking hell."

Ray's so tightWalt sees stars for a second. He's breathing like he's just run six laps of the base, and sweating like he'd done so in full gear in the midday heat. When he's buried to the hilt, he pauses, ducking down to press his face against the clammy skin of Ray's neck.

"This might be over embarrassingly quickly, holy shit,"

Ray laughs, and Walt groans at the sensation. "Then get to it, Marine."

Walt does, fucking in to Ray hard enough that the bed frame clatters against the wall. (Walt's going to have to buy everyone on Ray's floor a fucking fruit basket, at this rate.) He presses light, wet kisses against Ray's neck and shoulders, lips trembling as Ray moans like a whore and scratches his bitten down nails against Walt's back.

His prediction was right, and it's not long before the tell-tale tightening of his stomach. Walt tucks his knees up enough to support himself and sits up, pressing in hard against Ray's prostate as he does so. Ray's moans choke off then, his eyes clenched shut as he thrashes his head around on the pillow.

"Look at me, Ray." Walt waits until he does to wrap his hand around Ray's leaking dick, tugging almost too harshly in time with his thrusts. It only takes four, five pulls before Ray clenches down, squeezing Walt's dick almost impossibly tight as he comes.

Walt's groan is guttural, and he comes too barely a second later, catching himself by surprise with the force of it. He slams forward into Ray, dropping down to rest his head against Ray's chest as he shudders through it and tries to catch his breath.

Once his heart doesn't feel like it'll burst out of his chest, he slides out of Ray, pressing wet kisses against the skin of Ray's chest as he does so; before rolling onto his back and shucking the condom. The room is quiet, save for their breathing, and when Walt links his hand with Ray's he finds his fingers are trembling.

He tugs on their joint hands. Ray huffs in protest at moving, but twists anyway, throwing a leg over Walt's and collapsing against his side. His skin is tacky with sweat, but Walt's skin tingles everywhere they touch. He's missed this; been without for 11 fucking months, so he's allowed to be sappy and clingy.

 

 

The sun's much lower in the sky when Walt speaks again. "You sure it was okay?"

Ray tilts his head up, just enough for Walt to see his raised eyebrow. His voice is rough and sleepy. "'Okay'? Jesus, homes, I'll let you know when I can feel my fucking  _hands_ again. Shit."

Walt smiles a little, smug. "Ass. I meant earlier, when I showed up and surprised you."

Turning properly at that, Ray props his chin on up Walt's chest. He's quiet for a few seconds, and Walt's hands itch to reach out and touch him. He forces himself still though, keeping his hands linked behind his head while Ray takes a breath. "I'll admit, my brain saw fatigues and I almost shit my pants. But then I saw your fugly face was all still in one piece and everything was sunshine and fucking streamers."

Walt can't _not_ move then, and he presses both hands against the warm, sweat-slicked skin of Ray's back, digs in his fingertips. "Ray." His voice is shaky, and Ray ducks to kiss his chest.

"I know." He bites the skin he just kissed. "But, seriously dude, I was as happy as a pig in shit. Bake me a rainbow cake in the morning, what the fuck ever, but I swear to God, Walt, I've never been so fucking happy."

There's a burning sensation behind his eyes, and Walt blinks furiously at the wall. "Jesus Christ, Ray. I-- God, me too. I'm so fucking happy to be home. I needed to see you as soon as I got off the bus. And so I barely stuck around, just found myself a flight. I didn't really consider anything else, just that I needed to see you. I didn't think how me showing up, still in my damn uniform, might fuck everything up for you here if you're not--"

Ray's shoulder rolls and then there is a hand against Walt's cheek, soft and warm against his stubble. "Walt? Breathe."

He does. It takes a few seconds for his heart rate to settle back to normal, but Ray just waits. "Sorry." The word cracks a little, and Walt clears his throat. "Sorry, I've been bottling that up, I guess."

"No shit, homes. But, for real, I'd have kicked your ass if I'd found out you'd gotten home safe and weren't right fucking here."

"You say such sweet things."

"You bet your ass I do."

Walt leans down and kisses him. It's as intense as always; the feelings pressing down on his chest every time he looks at Ray, every time he touches him. But now he can do that that and remember that this time he's home for good. His eyes are wet but he keeps kissing Ray, pouring out what they haven't yet said out loud into it, hoping like hell Ray understands.

From the fingertip bruises Walt can feel forming against his jaw, he's betting Ray does.


End file.
